Born Under a Bad Planet
by Titan of Saturn
Summary: When the Captain of the shady little Firefly named Serenity asked him his name he’d said ‘Let’s just keep it at Sam.’ Supernatural Firefly crossover. Sam and Dean in the Firefly 'verse. Based on the Supernatural episode 'Born Under a Bad Sign' from S2.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural_ or _Firefly/Serenity_. They belong to others I'm sure I don't have to name for you. I'm not being paid, or gaining any sort of profit using these characters I do not own, except for the writing experience. (DoC: 11/15/07)

Eventual_ Serenity_ spoilers. Story based on the second season Supernatural episode 'Born Under a Bad Sign' but only basic spoilers for that. Definite spoilers for season one episode 'Nightmare' and it's attached concept. I don't think it's really required to know Supernatural (they're the definite AU part in this crossover) but some basic knowledge of the premise and the characters would probably go a long way. Set in the _Firefly_ 'verse, so that knowledge is kind of mandatory.

TS

* * *

He won passage off of Tophos with money and a smile. When the Captain of the shady little Firefly named _Serenity_ asked him his name he'd said 'Let's just keep it at Sam.' 

He knew immediately it had been the right thing to say.

"Any particular reason for that? We don't want any Alliance trouble." The Captain responded, but he knew how to spin it now.

"Just local troubles, nothin' the Alliance would bother themselves with, 'specially way out here. All I need's passage, food, and a bunk, and I'll be gone 'fore you know it." He made sure he didn't speak like he was schooled. He made sure to speak like his brother and father, because even though he wasn't raised on Lawrence he spent enough time around both growing up to have picked up a rim accent, at least when he needed it.

"That seems fine to me. You stick to that and I don't see us having a problem."

"Good."

It was something like four days before he even realized the Tam siblings were on the same ship as he was. It was a disturbing realization, because it meant the girl was blocking her presence, and the doctor knew how to stay out of sight as well as Dean. What revealed them was a vision, a dream, of a conversation the doctor and the Sheppard were going to have with the Captain the next day. It was of a purely sadistic impulse that he let the conversation happen, and even eavesdropped. It certainly wasn't a _tactically_ sound decision, but what was the fun in that?

"I don't like this guy, Captain. We need to get him off of this ship as soon as possible." The doctor was standing at the end of the kitchen table, shoulders set a little defensively, a little confrontational. He didn't pace.

"Look, Doctor, I know you're a mite fidgety 'bout passengers and the possibility of them findin' out about River, but this guy'll be off my boat before–"

"That's not good enough." The Captain stood across from the doctor at the other end, relaxed, easy, purposefully not responding to the doctor's body language.

"I agree with the doctor. Besides the fact that he and his sister are at risk with this passenger on board, the passenger himself is…unusual." The Sheppard looked a bit unsettled, sitting at the table between the two men. He figured it wasn't the seating arrangement that was the cause the Sheppard's distress, though. It was the subject of their conversation – him.

"How do you mean?"

"His accent is fake." The doctor put in immediately.

"How in the _gorram _hell can you–"

"He moves wrong." The Sheppard followed up, cutting his captain off.

"_Moves_ wrong! Zhè shì fâ kuáng–"

"I say we space him. Anything to get him off of _Serenity_ right now." The Captain fell silent in shock, staring at his – supposed to be – pacifist doctor.

"Jayne and Zoë ain't said nothing." The Captain said slowly, watching as his two most peaceful crew members didn't back down one inch. "Give me a bit to talk to them and think this over."

The Captain left. He thought maybe the Captain should be first, for safety's sake, but the girl was much more dangerous. So he shadowed the doctor.

She was easier to take down than he had thought. It helped that she wasn't as advanced as him, and wasn't triggered, but it was an effort to keep it quiet.

The doctor was a bit more of a challenge than he'd thought he would be. The man knew how to fight, even if he'd never been in a real one before. He still went down quick, quiet, and hard. He tied them both up in their quarters and knew they wouldn't be missed. They were, after all, hiding from him.

He went for the Companion next. She stayed in her shuttle most of the time and also wouldn't be missed for a while. Even though the door was open he knocked.

"Come in!" He stepped in and looked around, seemingly in interest but actually cataloging what he'd need for a fight. Companions were trained. Unless he took her completely by surprise, she'd fight back, hard and loud. "Sam, I believe? What can I do for you?" He smiled nervously and shifted uncomfortably.

"To be honest, I'm not quite sure. I guess I was just…"

"Curious?" And her eyes were lit up with humor.

"Yeah." He said, lamely. "If I'm bothering you I could leave."

"Not at all. It's good to have company that doesn't insult you on this ship." His mouth dropped open a little and he stared at her in surprise.

"They insult you? But– why? You're a _Companion_. It's an honor, 'specially out here on the rim." She smiled.

"Sadly, not everyone thinks like you do." The Companion turned to light a candle, and he hit her on the back of her head. She crumpled into his arms.

Then it was the Sheppard, the mechanic, and the pilot. After that, the mercenary, and after that, the first officer. She hadn't been as easy as the others, and she got word to the Captain so that in the end he fought both at the same time. The Captain kept getting up, over and over again.

It was still easy. So easy. Hardly a challenge, really.

When it was said and done, he dragged them all into the cargo hold and sat on a crate watching them. By then, most of them were awake and watching him back.

"So what now?" The Captain asked. "You kill us all and take my ship?"

"No, bú." He said, twirling a knife in his hands. "Nothing so xì jù xìng. Now we wait for Dean." He paused and watched the flicker of the doctor's eyes. "Maybe some violence to occupy us. It could be a while before he gets here. After all, last time I saw him he wasn't doing so good." The doctor flinched. He stood, swift and lethal, and stalked over.

"Hey doc, you seem to know who I'm talking about." All eyes in the room turned to the doctor. "Rán ér zé, I shouldn't be surprised. He did work with you, didn't he? Eh, Doctor Simon Tam?" He swooped down and cut the doctor's bindings. The man twisted, grabbing his wrist, turning it and snatching the knife from him. The doctor then scrambled away.

"Smooth." He grinned, anticipating fun. "I though you would know how to use a knife, the way you fought earlier. I wonder, how good are you really? Rich boy training? Or a bit more than that? I bet Dean taught you a trick or two. Zâng ones." He started to circle, watching as the doctor matched him step for step. "Maybe I should wake up your sister. She could help you out. You two would make a lethal pair, wouldn't you." The doctor flinched. He didn't take the opening. He still had time to kill, after all.

"You told the Captain your name was Sam."

"I did."

"So you're Sam? Dean's Sam?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Doctor Tam."

"Have you informed them of her whereabouts yet?" The doctor asked him, continuing to hold his guard.

"Of course not. While I'm sure the bosses would want me to carry out your execution, and Dean's too, I'd rather stay off their radar for as long as possible. Having to take orders is a bitch. It's much more fun to hurt whoever I want."

"Which means Dean? He saved your life."

"No." He corrected. "Dean saved _Sam's_ life. I'm not Sam." The doctor faltered.

"Ni shì fú?"

"Of course not. Sam's a sap. Besides, he has absolutely no control. Kind of like your sister, actually." The doctor went white. He grinned, leaning forward a bit and lowering his voice like he was telling a secret. "I could say it. I know the words. Then she'd be like me, she'd have control, and you wouldn't have to worry about kuáng mei-mei again."

"No!" The knife came flying at his head. He ducked, spun, and kicked it out of the free hand of the Captain.

"Please." He said, seizing the man by the throat and lifting him so that his feet were barely on the ground. "I saw that coming ten minutes ago. And you don't have to be a reader to know something's up when the resident doctor and fugitive reveals things he probably should have told you a long time ago – but didn't because he's smarter than you give him credit for – and no one says a word." He didn't let up squeezing even as the man began to turn purple.

"Cap'in!" The mechanic shouted in alarm. He tilted his head as he sensed something, and then smiled.

"It's your lucky day, Captain. Dean's here to save you."

* * *

_Zhè shì fâ kuáng_ means 'This is crazy' (note: the 'a' in _fâ_ is shown in the pinyin dictionary I use as having a strait line accent, but that accent isn't available in Microsoft that I'm aware of, so here I've used 'â' with an angular accent.) 

_bú_ means 'no'

_xì jù xìng_ means 'dramatic'

_Rán ér zé_ means 'But then'

_Zâng_means 'Dirty' (note: the 'a' in this should also have a strait line accent.)

_Ni shì fú_ mean 'you are not' or 'you're not' (note: the 'i' in _ni_ should have an inverted 'carrot' or angular accent like the one I'm using in place of the line, with the point down. This one also isn't available to me that I know of.)

_kuáng mei-mei_ means, as far as I can tell, 'crazy little sister' but I can't find sister, let alone little sister, in my dictionary. Mei-mei is _Firefly_ cannon for little sister.

Sorry if I went a little overboard with the Chinese. Tell me if I did and I'll tone it down. But from what I gather from _Firefly_ cannon the regular and common use of Chinese, while used everywhere, is mostly with the educated class. Thus, Simon and 'Sam,' and Sam's general attachment to the language because of school and what it means to him. He only uses it after he's 'found out' because it's a little harder to fake an accent when you've never really heard that accent – in that language at least.

As always, reviews are loved, from the 'good job' right up to the 'okay, this sucked and this is why . . .'

TS


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own _Supernatural_ or _Firefly/Serenity_. They belong to others I'm sure I don't have to name for you. I'm not being paid, or gaining any sort of profit using these characters I do not own, except for the writing experience.

Story rated for language, adult themes, and violence.

Eventual _Serenity_ spoilers. Story based on the second season Supernatural episode 'Born Under a Bad Sign' but only basic spoilers for that. Definite spoilers for season one episode 'Nightmare' and it's attached concept. I don't think it's really required to know Supernatural (they're the definite AU part in this crossover) but some basic knowledge of the premise and the characters would probably go a long way. Set in the _Firefly_ 'verse, so that knowledge is kind of mandatory.

* * *

"Dean."

The dark, scratchy voice calling for his attention was ignored. Dean didn't turn from where he was cleaning his guns and studying the blueprints for standard Firefly-class ships.

"Dean." Bobby called again.

"Aren't you supposed to be flyin' this boat?" Dean answered roughly, voice thick. He told himself it was from the pain that sparked white-hot whenever he tried to lift his right arm. It was a bitch to deal with when cleaning guns.

"Do you even know what you're going to do when we catch up to him?"

From anybody else that would have been a challenge, would have raised Dean's hackles and set him off. From Bobby, the words were sad and resigned. He sounded more and more like that these days. Worn thin, probably, like Dean was. Fighting to keep fighting, with John Winchester dead and Sam flipped out and Feds (or worse) hounding their footsteps. Dean had enough just dealing with Sam. Bobby ended up with everything else on his shoulders. Dean would feel guilty if it didn't take so much energy. He'd need that energy for Sam. To fight Sam. To save his little brother from himself.

Dean's shoulder throbbed.

"Kick his ass and drag him back on _Rumsfeld_ kicking and screaming." Bobby didn't answer right away, but Dean felt him shift his weight, relax, acknowledge Dean's attempt at humor and his unspoken resolve to get his brother (his _real_ brother) back, or die trying.

"We're ten minutes out. You should get ready." Bobby's heavy footsteps echoed off the ship's metal grating as he walked away. He paused at the doorway. "Are you sure you don't want me in there with you?"

Dean stayed where he was, right arm tucked into his side, head bowed over the blueprints and his partially reassembled gun. He didn't turn around. "Yeah, Bobby, I'm sure."

Bobby left.

* * *

Dean held the gun in his left hand, fingers loose and relaxed, as he waited for the airlock to seal. He'd put it away before– _stupid_– because he couldn't shoot the Construct to save Sam, because the Construct _was_ Sam, in body if not in mind.

Dean knew better now. The Sam-Construct hadn't hesitated even a moment in shooting him. And guns didn't have to be lethal. Dean would take out a kneecap if he had to; if it meant being able to get Sam back.

_Sleep. Be silent. Rescind._

The airlock sealed with a hiss. "Be careful." It was the only thing Bobby said. Dean appreciated that.

_Release. Peace. Yield._

"I'll bring him back, Bobby." Dean swore. Next to him, Bobby nodded.

"I'll be waiting. Holler if you need me."

_Kneel. Bow. Break._

"Yeah." Dean agreed, but they both knew he was lying. He half expected Bobby would follow him in anyway. He'd been their uncle since they were little, after all. He'd taken them in after Dad died.

But Bobby was worn thin, like Dean was. Dean could only manage moving forward because it was for Sam. Without Sam, there _wasn't_ a reason to move forward. Dean got the feeling sometimes that Bobby felt that way about the two of them, him and Sam. But Bobby would go on if Sam and Dean were gone, would go on even if that life was empty. Bobby survived. It was what he did. And without Sam, Dean would die.

_Scream. Cripple. Fall._

Dean held the gun in his left hand, fingers loose and relaxed, as he waited for his mind to settle. Then he brought the gun up and took a step forward. _Rumsfeld_'s airlock door slid open, revealing the short passageway bridging the two ships. Dean took a second step, a third, and he could faintly hear Bobby behind him, hacking the Firefly's airlock systems.

_Die._

Dean took another step.

_Somnus. Soporo. Abrogare._

The second set of airlock doors opened, and Dean's hand tightened involuntarily around the gun. Another flare of white-hot pain shot through his right side when he forced his whole body to loosen, to give him the speed and freedom of movement he'd need to fight Sam.

_Quiesco. Quies. Concedo._

Dean stepped into the other ship's cargo hold, eyes finding not-Sam in an instant. It wasn't hard, considering the other was standing directly across from the airlock and in Dean's direct line of sight. His gun shifted to aim at the Construct automatically, training guiding his arm.

_Supplex. Arcus. Solvo._

Then, without thought or decision, Dean's arm fell four inches, pointing the gun away from Construct-Sam's head. Dean tried not to read anything into the fact that he'd done that before he'd noticed the hostage in not-Sam's arms.

_Clangere. Abrumpere. Ruo._

She was young. Probably younger than Sam. Her eyes were wild and teary, scared, her hands tied behind her back, feet tied together, dark hair wild and disheveled by the gag pulled too tight around her head. Not-Sam was holding her up by one of her arms, forcing the other in a position that was twisted up and around the back of her torso. It was definitely a painful position, but she gave no sign that she was in any sort of pain. Otherwise, she looked fragile and exhausted, knees not supporting her weight, and Dean could see several vivid bruises coloring her skin. They were recent.

_Abeo._

Dean brought his gun back up. The girl was being held out in front of the Construct, but Sam was far too tall for it to really use her as a human shield.

_Abeo. _

_Die._

_**Never.**_ Not if Dean had any say in it. He'd die himself before he used that command on Sam. The others, if he had to, Dean would use. It was damn dangerous to try, because not all of the words would work. Each of the children had been programmed differently (Sam had shared a couple of theories on that with Dean, during his lucid periods, but they were worth jack-shit to Dean now), and the parameters of their conditioning varied enough to make subduing one without the correct information risky at best. Dean could only pray he knew enough of the commands to stumble across one that worked on Sam. He could only pick at random.

"Hey Dean. I see you managed to crawl away from death one more time. Welcome to the party, I'm glad you made it." The smile was unpleasant. "How's the shoulder?"

"How about you tell me. You're the one with the freaky psychic powers." Not-Sam pouted a little, but it was a fake pout, mocking, an expression the real Sam would never wear. Especially at Dean. It was too vicious.

It was better than the look Dean had seen in that bar. It was better than staring into Sam's terrified, angry eyes and knowing Sam wasn't Sam but second-guessing himself anyway. It was better than an expression Dean could believe.

"Killjoy." It accused. The Construct coupled it's pout with a put-out tone of voice that came a little too close Sam's. Dean fought to suppress his surge of emotion; pulled on his anger to clear his head.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill _something_, all right." His cocky, smug smile slid on to his face like a second skin. "And guess what? That something's _you_, you son of a bitch."

"Manners, Dean. That's your mother you're talking about." A grin slid onto not-Sam's face too, something Dean couldn't quite define to himself, and it seized his heart for some reason. "And be careful. You wouldn't want to hurt your brother, now, would you?"

The mocking formed a lump in Dean's throat that wouldn't go away. At least it wasn't the cold that had seized Dean's chest when he'd faced down not-Sam the first time around. Dean ground his teeth together and grinned, twisting his lips back in a gesture that pulled strangely at the skin on his face.

"If you think that'll work on me twice you're even stupider than I thought you were. This won't hurt Sam one bit."

Dean summoned the words to his mind, picked one, and rolled his tongue in preparation to speak the foreign sounds. But not-Sam's grin hadn't faded, and Dean couldn't figure out why. The Construct had to know what he was going to do, going to say. It should be trying to stop him.

Construct-Sam clicked his tongue and tisked, cutting Dean off.

"Now, now," It mocked, "watch what you say. Words can be oh-so-damaging when they're spoken carelessly." Construct-Sam lifted his free hand and Dean realized for the first time that it was holding a knife. A bad sign, for sure. Dean's focus was slipping. Had slipped. Probably hadn't been there to begin with.

Not-Sam stroked the girl's face with the tip of the blade and cooed at her. "Don't be afraid Lethe, my little water nymph, Dean won't hurt you. But he might make you sleep if he doesn't watch what he says." The girl's eyes widened and her fear became full-out animal panic. By not-Sam's satisfied hum, Dean figured it'd meant to scare her.

"Have you figured it out yet, Dean? Who this one is? What you'll do to her, if you say what you intend to?" At Dean's silence the Construct smiled again. Then he tilted his head to Dean's right, knife idly caressing the girl's neck. "Look over there."

Dean glanced in that direction briefly and saw nothing but a row of crates. Keeping his eyes and gun trained on the smiling Construct, Dean walked slowly sideways to get a view of what was behind them.

What he saw sent a shiver of horror and fear down his spine, and the look on his face when he looked up and made eye contact with it probably reflected that.

Not-Sam started laughing.

* * *

The second set of words that Dean thinks are in Latin, and they mean pretty much the same thing as the first set (in the same order). Thus, I'll not go through the translations. If you would like them, however, message me and I'll get them to you. At some point.

_Lethe_ – A Naiad nymph (water nymph) of the river of _Forgetfulness _and _Oblivion_ in the Underworld. When the dead drank from it they forgot their mortal lives and were freed from the memory of the joys of the living world. There's irony for ya. And yes, that was on purpose.

A/N: I can see that this story has become very popular with just one chapter, so I feel obligated to inform the readers of this story that I am working towards quality and not speed. Even when I feel I have sufficiently finished a chapter I will not post it. I will let it sit a while and then return to read it again. This allows me to catch typos, grammatical errors, and it distances me from the chapter enough that I can ask myself 'Does this say what I want it to say and the way I want it to?' and give myself a frank answer. (I am my own beta reader, and this method is really the only way for me to manage that situation in a way that works well.) Depending on that answer I will revise and edit the chapter, and then leave it to sit again. Repeat. And believe me, it's not perfectionism. I find typos and grammatical errors well into my fourth and fifth re-reading.

I go through an ungodly number of chapter versions doing this, before I feel it's worthy enough to post. You would not believe.

You probably get the picture. My updates will not be rapid and they will not be in consistent intervals. This is the way it will be regardless of whether it's crunch/exam month or not. Though that definitely doesn't help.


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